Angel looked at Demon and smiled.

"Should I do this or would you like to?"

Below them their charge looked around uncertainly.

"Why don't we share it this time? It looks plenty big enough."

Indeed, the black hunched figure lurking at the edge of the light was larger than both beings. As the girl locked the door and began walking Angel nodded and they stepped forward. The black figure's clawed fingers lengthened into razor-sharp blades, and reached for the girl's thin neck.

Angel and Demon flickered out of sight, reappearing one on either side of the monster. Light pulsed from Angel and a dark whip flashed out from Demon's fingers. The creature fell and the girl continued forwards, reacting only when she stepped into the vicious liquid pouring from the creature. A shudder passed through her and she looked around nervously, and then made a mad dash for the stairs to her left.

Angel smiled blandly and knelt, reaching out and trailing his fingers over the surface of the puddle. The liquid gathered itself up into a small, black glittering marble. He popped it into his mouth and sucked on it like candy, which it was to his kind.

"No need to hang back," he gestured from Demon to the slain creature. "Eat, before it goes bad."

Demon hummed before letting the whip flick out again, severing a chunk and popping it into his mouth.

"A rare treat, this," he murmured.

"Indeed."

Flower petals danced across the scattered papers, whirled here and there by the wind in a loose, carefree manner.

The boy lay on his side in the old narrow bunk and watched them vacantly.
Master had sent him back to his room at breakfast. He had no idea what he had done, only that whatever it was this time, Master would hurry up and end the punishment, or at least not drag it out too long so that he could go back to deciphering the codices in the library.

They were fascinating little things, those codices, full of various tales and information to last him lifetimes. If only he was immortal like Master and the other teachers then he’d be able to study them with all the time in the world.

He blinked slowly, sucked in a deep breath. Maybe he could be. Everyone knew how immortals were created and even how humans could become immortal themselves. He rolled off his cot and plucked a blank paper and a pen from his desk. A list of things he needed and methods he needed to prepare could be written down and made to look like an essay to present to one of the masters.

He worked quickly, finishing the list and making plans for all situations. When the time came for his punishment he took it and endured it, using some of the tasks to gather his supplies. Eventually, the day came that a great many of the masters were called away by their own superiors and there were too few around to see and put a stop to his endeavors.

He arranged and set and fixed and fiddled until he could afford to waste no more time. He stood in the center of a diagram he had traced out on the floor and clapped his hands together to activate the array.

Blinding white light and pain shot through him and then winked out. He fainted for a moment and then opened his eyes and looked around, hoping nobody had noticed the flash. Finally, looking down at his hands he saw that the skin was pale and slightly translucent. He reached up and pulled a strand of his hair out and held it before his eyes. Snow white. He grinned; he had done it. He was now an immortal.

Days later he was told that it should have been impossible for a young novice to perform the transmutation alone. Sometime after that it was discovered that he had been an immortal from birth. Someone had changed his features and locked away his strength. But who, and why?

"...You can't possibly mean you want to fuck him senseless."

There was a dead silence on the other end of the line. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"You," Dean's voice was flat as he toyed with the telephone cord. In the background the television blared the NFL world series.

Juliana sniffed. "I never said that."

"You sure as hell implied it. I've never heard you sound horny before."

"I am not horny."

"Good... He's our uncle for chrissakes. You can't really want to bed him that bad."

Again the silence. Dean tangled and untangled the telephone cord. The television screamed as one team scored a goal.

"Get over here," he said abruptly and slammed down the phone and fell back on the couch. Thank god his cousin lived halfway across the city and couldn't see the massive erection brought on by listening to her talk about their uncle Anthony. The things on his wish list to do before he died included plundering lovely cousin Juliana like a raider for a month straight.

Now, what was he going to do when she arrived?

First things first, he needed to get rid of the hard-on slowly killing him. He got up and unzipped his pants, pumping his cock on the way to the bathroom.

00000000

Juliana relaxed in the back of the cab and watched the city scuttle by her window as traffic waited for the light to change. The throbbing between her legs disturbed that relaxation however, and threatened to spoil the soothing feeling of ease. Dean would no doubt be in such a state over her scheme to bed Uncle Anthony, who had already indicated his interest in illicit encounters with the ribald stories he poured over the heads of her elders at the cocktail party last month.

She smiled and brushed her fingers over the soft leather of the skin-tight one piece outfit she wore. A deep midnight blue, the suit clung relentlessly to her pale flesh, outlining every curve and contour. The top was sleeveless, backless and barely managed to cover her nipples. The bottom half moulded to her sex and rear, fine chainlike embroidery sewn over the triangle of her pubis, drawing the eyes and mind inevitably.

She had acquired the outfit by ordering it from a catalogue obtained from a sex shop. The trip had been quick and secret, the suit delivered to a P.O. box on the other side of town, right near Dean's apartment. Poor fellow. He'd been lusting after her for years now, ever since they had both turned fourteen on the same day. Well, he didn't have to worry from today -she had no intention of bedding Uncle Anthony, who was certainly interested in bedding her, thinking all the while that his niece was a wallflower and having no idea she hadn't been a virgin since the age of thirteen. No one knew for that matter and it was such fun watching them treat her like a little girl and watching the shock on their faces when she said something they didn't expect.

And Dean would never expect her like this. He would certainly get the shock of his life when he saw her. Idly she wondered how long it would take for him to make a move on her. She hoped he would simply pick her up and fling her on his bed and ride her until morning, non-stop. The thought was so delicious she shuddered in pleasure.

He scrabbled around the back of the closet, cursing every lost second.

Nothing was safe, nothing was safe. That was what he thought constantly in the ruins until he had met the Vergers. They had seemed so perfect he had put the voice warning him silently in a box and stayed with them.

He was going to pay the price for it soon if he didn’t— ah. He snatched up the tiny box, mouthing a silent prayer of relief. Stuffing it down the front of his vest and slinging the bag of supplies over his shoulder he crawled out of the closet and ghosted out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen. He peeked out of the windows, looking in every direction he could manage before heading out.

He avoided the train tracks, choosing instead the streets that led back to the old jetty that was now used for pleasure outings. Finding the wizened little caretaker sound asleep in the stench of cheap wine he appropriated one of the boats, letting it drift quietly some distance away from the dock.

The spell that allowed the boat to cut swiftly through the water was old and faded, so he removed the box from his vest and slipped on the amplifier ring. He pointed his finger at the prow and trickled energy into the ring, letting it pool in the small pocket in the metal. A faint violet glow told him the ring was charged and ready. He cast off and commanded the boat to move.

The boat moved silently along, gliding past the ruined city. A long time ago had seen it prospering, industry factories powered by sorcery, creating better lives for everyone. But then there was some sort of explosion in the sky one night and abruptly sorcery was difficult to work, coming easily to a precious few.
Most of those few, upon seeing what had happened to without sorcery to assist in their world in daily life, determined that they would find the cause of this tragedy.

And they did.

It appeared that a star had gone nova, breaking the planetary alignment and taking away much of the harmonics that made up sorcery. Eventually the sorcery driven factory cities became ghost towns and then ruins, as the people moved away. Some stayed, and he was one.

“She’s special.”
“Is she an angel, mommy?’


“I’ve spoken to her. What a wonderful child.”

“So brave…”

“Our savior…”


Saint


Christine huddled in a corner of the room, trying to shut out the visions and sounds pressing into her mind. But there was no escape anymore, not since the Sick Man had remembered himself. They all thought Christine had done it but it wasn’t her. She had pushed the Sick Man and he had fallen over the sparking wire.

The Sick Man had shaken around on the floor really hard when he got shocked. All his hair had stood up on his head, as if he had goosebumps. The Rat Lady had tried to move the Sick Man away from the wires but she had started shaking too.
Christine had looked around then, trying to decide which of the doors to choose. There was one right
next to the Sick Man and Rat Lady where they lay shaking on the floor, and another a little bit away from the table she lay on. She tore away the strap holding her waist down and yanked frantically at the cloth cuffs around her ankles. When she was free, Christine rolled off the table and darted to the door. She dragged it open and slipped inside.

Wrong door.

Parts were everywhere. Little girls and boys that looked just like her, split, joined, sprawled in awful poses. Christine screamed and backed out, only to be enfolded in a pair of hot stinking arms. She shrieked and struggled madly to break free. The arms tightened and a voice cooed in delight. Christine was shoved back into the room and the door slammed shut behind her.

She screamed again and threw herself against it, yanking at the handle, banging on it with her fists and crying to be let out. Eventually she huddled against it, eyes closed and keening quietly. Christine put her hands over her face and wailed into them when laughter filtered through the door. A thump landed on it and she jumped away.

She blinked, sniffled and looked around fearfully, flinching constantly. Various human body parts littered the floor and were piled on tables.